


Much Ado About (For) Nothing

by arthur_pendragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempts at humour, Frequent Declarations of Love, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/pseuds/arthur_pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius doesn't take James's declarations of love seriously, thus suffering through events that he could have avoided otherwise and still have reached the same outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much Ado About (For) Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> why is James/Sirius a rarepair

Sirius Black had heard the most ridiculous things fall out of James Potter’s mouth in the years upon years of their acquaintance, but perhaps this one trumped them all.

“I love you, Padfoot,” Sirius heard James say one midnight in the Gryffindor dormitory. And - no. He could not bear to hear it. Theirs was the legendary love that didn’t need to be expressed orally, and James  _knew_  that. So why the verbal expression? Sirius frowned.

“Not anymore, I don’t,” he replied.

Eh, not that James actually loved him the way he loved Evans. A bit of fumbling here and there, aided by the map (brilliant creation, that; they were geniuses), illegally obtained alcohol, and James's Cloak, but James would rather spend his entire life as Sirius’s best mate than Sirius’s boyfriend, husband, lover. A major deterrent to that latter option was... Evans, of course _._

“Oh, come on,” James sat up in his bed and pulled apart the curtains (Sirius heard the swish) so hard they ripped and fell on the floor in a red — he imagined — heap. Sirius did James a favour and poked his wand through the slit in his own curtains, muttering  _Reparo._ “You can't stop loving me!” James pulled the curtains apart again, outrage and betrayal in his voice.

“I just did,” replied Sirius, already believing that James was joking about this entire thing, and moving on to fucking-with-James-for-the-hell-of-it. There was a moment of quiet in the dormitory, and a third set of curtains was disturbed — Sirius’s this time. Sirius put his wand away and shuffled aside to make room for James, who would’ve just climbed on top of Sirius if he hadn’t.

“Muffling Charm, please,” called Remus, a bed over. “At least one person here intends to sleep till the morning and not listen to… whatever you people are going to do.”

“Ha ha, Moony,” Sirius replied. He grabbed his wand again and cast the charm, anyway.

“I love you,” James said. Again. Sirius couldn’t look at his face in the dark, but from the tone of James’s voice he thought James was  _serious_. Even though he couldn’t be, because Sirius was Sirius, but — why was James saying it aloud so many times? He voiced the question. James pulled Sirius to him and pushed his face into Sirius’s back. “I do, I just want to make sure you know.”

“Of course I know.” Sirius knew James down to the bit of dirt behind the back of his knee that he’d missed that day in his post-Quidditch-practice scrub-down. He would know if James loved him.

“You love me, too, right?”

“If you didn’t know already that I love you now and that I will for a hundred lifetimes, we’re not best friends.”

“I _love_ you, Sirius,” said James, a hint of urgency in his voice. Sirius was two more ‘I love you’s from jabbing his wand into James’s side and creating a good little burn mark on his skin.

Sirius turned around — rolled onto his other side with difficulty because James was taking up a nice three-quarters of the bed and because James’s arms were bloody pincers around his. Then he felt around for James’s head and kissed him, once, twice, three times on the mouth (not something best mates usually did, but James and Sirius were always like this). “Happy, Prongs?”

James didn't say anything after that, but his grip on Sirius relaxed and he eased rapidly into a nice night's sleep.

“You said  _Mufflio_  instead of  _Muffliato,_  Sirius, but I didn’t feel like telling you while you were professing your eternal love to James,” said Peter a minute later, voice was full of drowsiness. Sirius heard Moony snicker. He spelled one of his pillows to fly over to Moony’s and burst open in his face. Moony sent it right back.

* * *

 

“Sirius, I love you.” James actually stopped messing with his hair to look Sirius in the eyes and say it.

“I know, me too,” replied Sirius, this close to doing an Evans (rolling his eyes and fixing James with an irritated glare). “Stop it, would you? I’ll push you into the lake next time.” He had a book in his hands — he didn’t  _need_  to study for Charms, but if he was mucking up simple Snivellus spells like  _Muffliato —_

James, back to ruffling his hair, said, “Fine.” He winked at two fifth-year Hufflepuffs walking by the side of the lake they were sitting beside. The girls went red and dashed off. Sirius mumbled off-handedly, “Making me jealous?”

Prongs laughed with ease, apparently already secure in his knowledge of the requital of his love. Remus rolled his eyes in Sirius’s stead. Peter smiled into his own Charms book. It was a good beginning to a lazy Sunday afternoon at Hogwarts. They could see Professor Kettleburn on the adjacent lake edge trying to coax Grindylows out of the lake. (“Hope one of them gets him,” Peter muttered, recalling painfully the years he had suffered in Care of Magical Creatures.)

Sometime later, Sirius looked up to see something that looked like fire that was getting closer and closer to them. “Hey, James. It's Evans, she’s coming over.”

James, dozing with his head resting on Sirius’s lap, jerked awake at the mere mention of her name, sitting up and putting his back to the same bough as Sirius. His hands flew to his hair. Sirius straightened James’s glasses with a grin.

Lily Evans arrived on the scene, discarded her book bag near Peter and sat down beside Remus without so much as a glance towards James, who had been smiling attractively at her ever since her face had come into view.

“Evans and Moony?” asked James, taken aback. “Moony wouldn’t. He knows I —”

“Transfiguration side project, can’t believe you thought Remus would,” Sirius commented. “Go back to sleep.” He liked James’s warmth, even on hot days. The pebbles were shimmering just as much as the water, but he wouldn’t have given up the feeling of James’s sweaty, smelly hair poking into his skin for anything.

James stared, lovelorn, at Evans for two seconds. He then settled comfortably into Sirius’s side this time, head nestled in the crook of Sirius’s neck. “Love you,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted lightly, swatting him affectionately on the head. James held Sirius’s hand as they walked back to school in the evening; they could have been lovers, except halfway they jumped apart to duel each other to the detention (not death, Sirius and James  _did_  like each other very much).

* * *

 

Days passed without incident. James asked Evans out twice at the end of the month, only to get the expected outcomes (she laughed in his face the first time, and then with her friends the second).

Heartbroken yet again, James — the Head Boy, mind — managed to get a sixth-year Slytherin to smuggle two bottles of Firewhisky into the castle in return for introducing him to a Ravenclaw he had his eyes on. They went up to their dorm, which was at the time occupied solely by Remus, shutting the door behind them. James spelled it locked. Sirius conjured glasses for them out of thin air because he was a genius, but apparently James intended to drink straight from the bottle. Remus peered at them interestedly, but then turned away with ill-disguised distaste as he saw the name Ogden on the bottles.

"Don't give up," said Sirius, swigging from his bottle after watching James swallow mouthful after mouthful of the alcohol, observing his throat, the flex of the muscles in his neck as he threw his head back.

"Wasn't gonna," slurred James. The bottle was empty already. “Hey.”

James put the bottle aside and climbed into Sirius's lap. Sirius tossed away his own bottle without another thought. It was open and amber liquid arced into the air, falling everywhere, making a mess of things, but no one paid attention.

“I love you,” James mumbled between kisses, clutching Sirius’s face like he was a treasure — damn right he was — and edging closer and closer, as close as he could. Sirius, who had propped himself up on his elbows, kissed without holding back, obscene noises filling the dormitory. Remus silently shut his curtains and cast all the appropriate spells to protect him (and them) from invasions of privacy.

“I know,” replied Sirius.

“Don’t ever stop loving me back,” James said, voice dangerously close to a sob.

“Never,” replied Sirius.

In James’s life, Sirius knew his place; all too well, at times. He wished so much sometimes that James would look at him the way he looked at Evans, but he would rather let things be as they were than break the unbelievably strong bond they had.

* * *

 

The next morning, Remus was pretending like he hadn’t heard or seen anything last night despite the strong smell of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky and other fluids lingering in the room, and Peter was too busy complaining about how he hadn’t been able to get through the charm on the door and had been forced to sleep outside, on the stairs, to notice. James either didn’t remember a thing about how he’d undressed and then redressed Sirius last night, or was eerily good at pretending he didn’t, because he woke up with a hangover (that he promptly took potion for) in Sirius’s bed, and went about his day as usual, jerking Sirius awake and then going to the showers.

Sirius was used to it.

(They only ever did it when James was drunk beyond limit, so intoxicated he saw green where there was grey. It didn’t matter how much Sirius had drunk, because Sirius loved James so much he would do anything for him.)

“Fuck, I didn’t even have a quarter of the bottle,” Sirius groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms, while in sympathy, Remus rubbed his back. Sirius blinked up at Remus, to meet a pair of knowing, pitying eyes, and scowled. “Shut it.”

Remus’s lips quirked up, amused. James emerged, better after the potion, and smiled down at them. “Beautiful day, yeah?”

Sirius extended a hand for some of the Hangover Remedy, and James handed it to him almost immediately, reading his mind. “I’m gonna wait in the Common Room,” he said, not hanging around for the others to rib him about Evans. Sirius showered quietly (as quietly as he could) and then, putting the finishing touches on his robes (tying his tie very carelessly), said: “Moony.”

Remus, in the process of tying his own tie, looked up from the knot. Sirius grinned, wide. Remus grinned back.

James was leaning against the wall, beside the fireplace, able to survey the entire common room (there was only one corner he wanted to survey, though), teeming with people preparing for classes. His Head Boy badge was pinned on perfectly, and perfect was the rest of his uniform, too. As he saw Sirius descending from the stairs, he said, “Tie, Sirius.”

Sirius smirked at him. James smiled and let it slide.

“No favouritism, Potter,” called Evans, the Head Girl, from the other side of the room, where she was sitting in an armchair with a friend, MacDonald something. “Tie, Black.”

Sirius pulled a face at her and did his tie properly while Remus and Peter came down from the dorms. As they left the Common Room, James slung an arm around Sirius’s shoulders and murmured into his ear, lips brushing his skin, “I love you.”

Sirius turned his head and planted a very loving kiss on James’s temple for the entertainment of the people watching behind them. (They could  _feel_  them groaning as the Fat Lady swung closed.)

* * *

 

“You think she’ll ever say yes, though?” asked James the following week, as they ate breakfast in the Great Hall. Remus was absent from the table; he was in the Hospital Wing, recuperating (the night before had been a full moon). Sirius, who was busy looking over Peter’s Defence Against the Dark Arts essay, said, “She wouldn’t pass up the chance to date you. Trust me, Prongs.”

James smiled a secret, shy smile that only Sirius knew about. “Would you?”

“Why, Mr Potter, I was under the impression we were dating at this very moment!” Sirius gasped in mock-horror.

“Oh, no, Mr Black, however could you undergo that delusion without informing me?” James gasped, too.

Sirius dropped Peter’s essay in favour of dramatically wringing his hands. “What _ever_  would Ms Evans say if she saw her suitor devote his time to another?”

“She would remind Mr Potter that he is Head Boy, and that a bunch of impressionable first years are watching just a little distance away,” Evans said, sitting down beside James, who swivelled around to her, immediately changing his demeanour from mischievous to charming. “Hey, Evans,” he murmured, tilting his head a little to the side. He also had a blinding smile, but Evans, as always, was immune to James Potter’s charisma and handsomeness (James dropped it. The smile).

“What.”

“Fancy going to Hogsmeade with me?” James then gave her the same shy smile that he always gave Sirius, and Sirius’s mouth figuratively dropped open. The cheek. It was  _his_  smile. His! James's Sirius smile. Thank God Evans didn’t see it.

“No, I’d rather go with Snape.”

“That toerag?” James drew himself up. “You would choose that git over me?”

“Actually, I would rather go to Hogsmeade with the Boggart in Professor Slughorn’s illegal artefacts closet than with you  _or_  Snape. And the toerag’s always been you, Potter.”

Evans was smirking as she filled her plate with toast, butter and jam. James looked affronted. He swivelled back to Sirius. “At least I have you, my true love.”

“Always, my affectionate darling.” Sirius’s smile wasn’t as sunny as it seemed, but everyone was hoodwinked. Sirius  _was_  as handsome as James, and even the most acerbic of smiles of his was often mistaken to be one of goodwill. James leaned forward, as if to kiss Sirius. Sirius leaned in, too, but then dodged the kiss and threw his arms around James instead, pulling him close. Evans and Sirius locked gazes over James’s back; Sirius gave her a smarmy wink. She shook her head in amused resignation and returned to her breakfast. James made repeated attempts to flirt with her and repeatedly failed, while Sirius reread Peter’s essay and jabbed his wand at the offending sentences, creating tiny holes in the parchment that he later had to fix.

* * *

 

“I love you,” a familiar, familiar voice said behind Sirius; right behind him. In his bed. Glued to his back. Sirius promptly thrust his elbow backwards into James’s stomach.

“What the  _hell?”_  hollered James. “I was just about to go to sleep, Padfoot!”

“Stop telling me you love me, then!”

“What’s wrong with me saying something out loud that we know to be perfectly true — ”

“I don’t know  _why_  you’re doing this, but, James, fucking stop already.”

“I just feel like you don’t know how much I — ”

“Believe me, even if I didn’t before, I know  _now.”_

 _"Go to sleep!"_  an entirely different voice shouted.

Sirius was rather getting tired of it, especially because he knew for a fact that his real ‘target’ was Lily Evans. He did something the next afternoon that he had sworn never to do — he went to the library. In search of her.

He found her in the Transfiguration section with Moony, sitting together and scribbling with haste in different rolls of parchment, books upon books lying open in front of them. He reckoned it was OK to tell her, even with company — it was only Moony, not a stranger. And Moony of all people would understand.

“Evans,” he said, slipping into the bench opposite hers, and rested his elbows on the sleek black wooden table. Remus, instantly recognising Sirius’s intent, cast a Muffling Charm around them — proper one. (They had no qualms about using Snape’s invented spells, Snape had used the very same spells on  _them_ , too.)

“Yes, Black?” said Evans smoothly, unperturbed by the look Sirius had on his face. Sirius looked like he was expecting a punch in the nose.

“Just accept James already,” said Sirius shortly, and got up and walked away, the rest of the words he had meant to say dying at the tip of his tongue. He didn’t hear Evans’s reply, out of range of the charm. He went to go in search of the person who had been the reason he had gone in search of Evans — James, if that made only a little sense — and found him in the Owlery, clutching a certain Map and waiting nervously at the entrance.

“What were you doing in the library with Evans and Remus?”

Sirius said, “Next time you tell me you love me, I’ll hex your — ” he made an indicative gesture, and James winced lightly — “off.”

“But I do love —” James began helplessly, but stopped.

“Hey, Prongs,” Sirius said, looping an arm around James like James had this morning, “Try asking Evans out to Hogsmeade this Sunday, I think she’ll say yes today.”

James gave a short laugh, disbelief etched clear on his features. They used the Map to find the Firewhisky Slytherin, trying to score a bottle or five in pre-emptive celebration, and then James went to the library, leaving Sirius with the Map.

Evans said yes, and James spent the entire night celebrating with the rest of the Marauders. Sirius laughed and cheered along with him, mocking him for doing illegal activities as the person supposed to prevent them, and went to sleep with a heart not quite light.

Turned out, Hangover Remedy was meant to be taken when you  _had_  a hangover, and definitely not at the same time as the cause of that hangover.

He woke up in a cold sweat and without preamble threw up over the side of the bed. Remus, who had been unable to sleep, leaped out of his bed and to Sirius's, wand out, calling out to Peter in worry (James was in the deepest of slumbers and wouldn't have woken up even if Voldemort had come knocking at the dorm door), getting him to mix together a cold potion for Sirius.

Sirius's throat burned. The Firewhisky coming back up did not help.

Saturday morning, bright and blue, and Sirius was vomiting into a bucket that Remus had helpfully drawn up for him, instead of going to breakfast with James and Peter. It was disgusting. Remus kept Vanishing the puke, and Sirius now owed him a life debt.

“Saviour,” he croaked, surfacing from the bucket. “I’d have — without you — ” He kicked the bucket to make Remus understand.

“It’s all right, Padfoot,” Remus said. “It’s all right.” He was decent at healing, and they couldn’t have gone to Pomfrey, since Sirius was regurgitating the contents of a bottle that shouldn’t have been in the dorm at all.

“You think I did the right thing, Remus?”

“Yeah,” said Remus, now producing a wet towel. Sirius looked proudly at the towel, imagining Remus conjured it, until Remus told him he’d just Summoned it non-verbally from his trunk while Sirius's head was in the bucket.

“Really?”

“At least he’ll stop moping and using you to get over his heartache.”

Ah. Ahh. About that. Sirius peered up at Remus, wiping away the tears that had formed while (and because) he’d been violently heaving. “What if,” he ventured tentatively, “I had wanted him to keep doing it?”

Remus said matter-of-factly, “Yeah, but you love James so much you’d rather see him happy; that’s why you told Evans to get over her dislike that day. I’m not daft, you know?”

“You could never be,” rasped Sirius in what was unmistakably, unambiguously, gratitude.

“You weren’t truly getting tired of listening to James telling you he loved you, were you?” The note of humour in Remus’s voice made Sirius’s lips spread in a smile. “You think I would?” he replied.

“I think a lot of things, Padfoot,” said Remus contemplatively. “But I don’t think you would save even your own life if it meant James dying.”

Tears came again to Sirius’s eyes, but he passed them off as a reaction to his bending over the bucket in preparation for the next bout of bile. He wondered what he would do when Moony was no longer around.

“The day we die, I’ll go first,” he told Remus, who smiled wanly. “You’re an idiot for even imagining I’d let you die,” he replied.

(They had never imagined peaceful deaths for themselves, always wanting to die in the heat of the battle, fighting for a good cause.)

“You really are very kind, Moony,” Sirius said, and pretended not to see Remus’s own tears; Remus had extended him the same courtesy, after all.

* * *

 

“We ran into Snape on the way back,” said James on Sunday evening, grumpy as hell, as he took his rightful place under Sirius’s arm on the sofa closest to the crackling fire. “He said something insulting like he always does, the utter —” he made a very violent gesture — “and Evans’s mood went sour and so a goodbye kiss was out of the question, she left with some friend of hers.”

“Where’d you go in Hogsmeade?” asked Peter curiously, who had stayed back to finish his homework in the library.  “We went to Honeydukes, and then Puddifoot,” James said, laughing humourlessly. He then brightened. “She let me hold her hand, though, so I s’pose the day was salvaged.”

Sirius’s hand, the one that wasn’t stroking James’s hair at the moment, inched forward to grasp James’s hand. James squeezed it tightly. They distinctly heard sounds from the entrance — the portrait had swung open — Evans’s voice, high and clear, talking about the very thing James had just concluded. Sirius unconsciously got closer to James as Evans and her friend — Something MacDonald, she was  _always around Evans, what the hell_  — entered. Their eyes fell on the two of them, curled up together at one end of the sofa. Evans smiled teasingly. “Looks like Black was the one that went on the date with you today, Potter.”

James smirked back, not moving an inch away from Sirius. Sirius felt himself strangely pleased, but didn't let it come forth to his face.

“You are sticking to Sirius more often than before,” said Peter, still curious. James smiled benevolently, eyes tracking Evans. “That’s because I love him more than anything, Wormtail,” he said, watching as Evans climbed the stairs to the girls’ dorms, red hair a cascade of fire behind her.

Later that night, James crawled into Sirius’s bed for the umpteenth time and wisely refrained from making any proclamations of love.

Sirius rolled around to come face to face with James. “Prongs,” he whispered. James, already on his way to dreamland, jerked awake. “Yeah?”

“Prongs, how’d the date really go?”

James drew away from Sirius to properly look at him. “What d’you mean?” he whispered back.

“I know you inside out, don’t lie to me,” hissed Sirius. There was something wrong, he’d realised at the instant James had said what he’d said to Peter. James would never tell anyone he loved Sirius while gazing starry-eyed at Lily Evans. He had too much honour to. He was a proper guy, he’d especially been, since seventh year had started. He wouldn’t just flaunt his skin-ship and closeness with Sirius like this,  _after_  going on a date (a real, official date!), with someone who he’d fancied for years. Wasn’t it strange? Why would he do something like that?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, go back to sleep, you’ll make more sense in the morning,” said James, but Sirius seized on the evasiveness in his tone.

“Didn’t think you’d ever lie to me, but today was a day of firsts, wasn’t it,” muttered Sirius, rolling back around so James would face his back once more.

James laughed, almost miserable. “C’mon, Padfoot. Don’t do this.” He kicked Sirius in the legs. Sirius yawned loudly. “G’night, Prongs.”

“Hey,” said James, trying to be soothing. His hand slipped beneath Sirius’s nightshirt, trailed up to his stomach. Sirius pushed it out half-heartedly. It slipped back in. “Hey.” One of James’s legs swung over Sirius’s, and now he was flush against Sirius’s back.

“Did you secretly get pissed while no one was watching?”  _They only ever did it when James was drunk out of his mind._

“No, Pads. Not a drop.”

Sirius waited for one of Remus’s pinpoint remarks to stop James in his tracks, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He wasn’t disappointed. “He isn’t Lily, James.”

James called back, “I’ll thank you to go back to sleep, Moony, and mind your own business.”

Next was Peter. “I’ll thank  _you_  to go back to sleep, James, seeing as neither of you’ve been casting proper charms to maintain your privacy and I’ve had to stay awake too many times listening to you guys snog all night — like  _best mates_  do, yeah?”

“Fine,” said James, offended that even his greatest worshipper had stood up to him and Sirius hadn’t defended him. “Fine, have it your way.” His hand withdrew from Sirius’s shirt — Sirius missed it, but he’d never say it aloud — and he went back to his own bed. “If you’re really interested, she was more annoyed that I’d talked endlessly about  _you_  than Snape calling her that fucking Mud—Mudblood word again, all right, Sirius?” he said loudly.

“Yeah, well, I’m bloody worth talking about, but it’s not my fault you botched it up with Evans, is it?” said Sirius, equally loudly.

“Know what? Screw you, Sirius,” snapped James, shutting his curtains and audibly flopping onto his pillows. Sirius said nothing to that, sure James would regret it come morning.

* * *

 

He was cool with Sirius. No,  _cool._  He was cool in his behaviour with him. Aloof, keeping Sirius at arm’s length. It instantly irked him. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” asked James, disinterested. Peter was walking between the two of them and looking like he sorely regretted it. Remus was pretending he didn’t know the three of them as they walked to their first class in the morning.

“You’ve been glued to me for months altogether, and now there’s a metre distance between us.”

“I realised I like my personal space unoccupied by you, thanks.”

Sirius wanted to hex him. Dearly. There was a really nasty one he’d found out the other day, and he’d been going to tell James, but now he wanted to use it on him. Thing was, James was his best friend, no matter how much of an idiot he was being, so he wouldn’t touch his wand. He just shared a pointed look with Remus that James caught. “Oi,” he said irritably. “Don’t go moaning about me behind my back.” The doors to the classroom swung open of their own accord, and they took their usual places at the back of the class, James reluctantly sitting down beside Sirius and fishing his wand out of his robes.

“I wouldn’t,” Sirius said, musing, not looking at James as he did, “Now and a hundred lifetimes, remember?”

James glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, the hard line of his mouth softening, but then Sirius went ahead and said, “In any case, I’m not the one acting like a prat here, Head Boy,” to which James scornfully replied, “That right, Black?” and looked away. Sirius now wanted to hex  _and_  punch him. How dare James use his last name to address him. He was always going to be Sirius or Padfoot to James, cold shoulder or no.

McGonagall set the class the task of Transfiguring their partner’s quills into the birds they’d come from, and while at the end of the period their swans were trumpeting enthusiastically to each other, the two of them sat in stony silence so profound and prominent that McGonagall shot them more than one contemplative look. “Fighting, boys?” she asked, when she finally made her way over to their table after fixing Peter’s work (his goose’s beak was still a nib loaded with ink that flew everywhere like projectiles each time the goose honked) and approvingly nodded at their birds.

James smiled up at her. “No, Professor, we just thought we’d give you a day off from us,” he said charmingly. Sirius’s accompanying grin was as fake. McGonagall saw through both of them at once, but only smiled wryly before hurrying to the Slytherin side; someone had just set three squabbling peacocks loose on Snape’s partner, Mulciber, and feathers were flying. Sirius caught Remus’s eye, knowing Evans beside him had done it. She seemed only a little guilty.

The bell rang, and James was gone, dragging Evans —  _Evans!? —_  with him before Sirius could say, “Where to, Prongs?”

Idiot. He was an utter idiot. Acting like such a spoiled brat. Never mind him, Sirius thought darkly. He now had one more problem on his plate. He had received a letter from his warm, caring mother at breakfast, saying he was to come home for Christmas and bring Regulus with him; he now had to tell her he was permanently staying at James’s, because it was likely that she thought his running away from home last year had been a  _teenage_  thing. Then he had to tell James that he’d be going home with him; considering the current situation, however, he surmised that the best solution would be to just while his holiday time away at Hogwarts.

He sent back a note with the Black family eagle owl, which said  _hell fucking no, i’d rather stay with muggles_ (that’d really shock her) _than spend a day more with you_  and went to spend his free period at the lake, giving Hagrid company as they both threw flat stones across the surface of the lake (Hagrid won the competition that ensued).

At lunch, he sought out Regulus, who didn’t seem very happy to see him. Sirius felt insulted, but he didn’t care. He relayed their mother’s message to him.

“But you won’t be coming back, will you?” Regulus quietly asked, a faint pleading look in his eyes. Sirius sighed. “Look, Reg,” he said, sitting down beside him at the Slytherin table and ignoring the other Slytherins’ outraged mutters. “I’m done. I’m done having my life ruined by that old bat. Don’t know how you get along with her, but you know I wouldn’t have lasted another hour in there.”

Regulus nodded slowly. Sirius clapped him on the shoulder in commiseration, enjoying the way Reg scowled, and helped himself to some baked potatoes (he had always sworn the Slytherins got fluffier ones than any other House).

“What are you doing here, Black?” said a disgusted voice. Sirius grimaced, turning to Severus Snape. “Eating, Snape. Have you lost your grasp on the obvious, or is this how you normally are?”

Snape sneered. “If I hadn’t known better, I would think you were having second thoughts about the House you want to belong to.”

“No,” replied Sirius. “I’m just here for the potatoes. Won’t be staying for the blood rituals, thank you.”

That shut Snape up, and he walked away with a repulsed look on his face that exactly matched the one on Sirius’s.

Sirius turned to Reg, who looked like he wanted to shrivel up and die. Sirius was insulted once more. “Don’t look like that,” he chided. “I’m your brother, aren’t I?” Reg shot him a look of such scorn that Sirius physically leaned away. “Thanks,” he said. “So much affection from you, Reg, I feel like crying.” He made sure to hug Reg very lovingly and publicly before getting up and going back to class.

* * *

Last day of term arrived two weeks later, and James still wasn’t talking properly to Sirius. Remus was tired of their cold-shouldering each other and was spending more and more time with Evans (and James, who always tagged along) and Peter, just as distraught, chose to go with James, effectively leaving Sirius alone. He hadn’t thought,  _at all_ , that this sort of situation could have arisen amongst them. The Marauders. The absolute tightest group of friends, now scattered like dandelion seeds. It just seemed so  _silly._

All of them were going home this time, except for Sirius and Moony. Gryffindor Tower was going to be completely empty for the first time in months, and Sirius was so upset that James wasn’t being nice to him that he couldn’t even revel in the silence (“You thrive on attention, Sirius, don’t pretend,” said Moony dryly). He sat glumly in the Common Room, watching everyone go out with their trunks and saying ‘bye’ dully to those who dared disturb his moody silence. Evans left after a curious glance at him. She didn’t say anything to him, so Sirius didn’t bother, either. Wormtail waved goodbye from a safe distance (it wasn’t like he was going to  _murder_  Peter, for Merlin’s sake), and so did Something MacDonald, who had warmed up to him lately.

James was one of the last to go, levitating his trunk ahead of him as he descended the stairs, but he stopped dead when he saw Sirius without his luggage in the armchair.

“You aren’t coming home with me?” he asked, stiff. Sirius, who had worked himself up into a vindictive mood, laughed. “You wouldn’t know, would you? No, I’m not, James.”

“I saw your trunk open just now, I thought you were putting off packing as usual — why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You keep skirting around me, and we haven’t spoken two proper words to each other ever since that stupid Hogsmeade date of yours, I didn’t know if it was OK to come or not.”

“Of course it’s OK,” said James quietly. “Of course it was. You could’ve just told me — ”

“Every time I walked up to you, you disappeared with Evans, Wormtail, and Remus, so I hardly got the chance,” replied Sirius, cutting and harsh.

There was an awkward silence in the otherwise empty Common Room.

“Well, have a nice holiday, then, Sirius,” said James, turning away. Sirius couldn’t resist a parting shot. “It’d be nice to have my best friend back after hols are over,” he said.

James turned back to him, saying urgently, “Sirius, I lov—”

“Me, too,” said Sirius, irritated that James would say that inane thing at a heavy moment like this, but still responding with his true feelings. “Oh, yeah, Remus told me you fixed things with Evans. Good job.”

James looked stunned. “He said that, did he?”

“Used those exact words. Aren’t you getting late for the train, Mr Head Boy Potter?” said Sirius snappishly, and then whirled around to tromp up the stairs to his dorm, where he intended on pressing his face into his pillow until he couldn’t help but surface for air. He found Remus sitting on his bed and observing a long roll of parchment in the dorm. Sirius didn’t acknowledge him at all, choosing instead to lie facedown on James’s bed. Ten minutes later:

“Hello, Moony,” said Sirius.

“Hello, Padfoot,” said Remus as if they hadn’t just spent ten minutes in each other’s presence in absolute silence. “Nice morning? Thought you were going home today.”

“Of course, you didn’t know either.” Sirius told him the same thing he had said to James, only without the harshness. Remus didn’t deserve it. “Oh, yeah, fought a bit with James, too. ’Least he talked to me.” Sirius’s voice was muffled, as his face was buried in James’s pillow (that smelled strongly of him, so very strongly).

“He’s being a git, don’t bother yourself about it. He came back last time you argued.”

“Yeah, Moony, but the last time we argued was in second year,” Sirius moaned. “And we’d fought over who got to use the Jelly-Legs Jinx on Snivellus first, it wasn’t anything like what he’s doing now.”

“Hey, wait, you,” Moony said, displeasure creeping into his voice. “You’re not completely blameless. Don’t play the victim too much.”

“You know I love playing the victim.” Sirius inhaled deeply.

“No, you love the  _attention,”_  said Remus gently. “I’m as much your friend as I am his, and as an unbiased — ” Sirius chuckled; Remus wasn’t  _un_ biased, he was just equally biased towards both of them — “third party, he’s being an idiot and you’re the one moping and whining now instead of him. Get yourself together, I thought you wanted Outstanding in all your NEWTs this year.”

Sirius sighed loudly, turning over. “I’m a bloody genius, I don’t need to study. And you don’t either, I don’t know why you’re shutting yourself up in the library so much.”

“What else can I do when both of my best friends aren’t talking to each other?”

Sirius winced. He sat up. “Sorry, Moony,” he said, hushed. Moony smiled at him, shaking his head. “Honestly, it let me finish my Transfiguration project with Lily early and McGonagall can now grant me leave from the Astronomy NEWT that’s going to be on the full moon.”

“I don’t know  _why_  he’s doing this,” Sirius said, punching the mattress in frustration. “Telling me he loves me, going off with Evans, fighting with me because I somehow messed up his outing with her,  _and_  apparently, because I’m not taking him seriously. I don’t even know what he’s prattling on about.”

“Really?” Remus said, mysterious all of a sudden. Suspicion overtook Sirius. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know either.” Remus was quite the closed clam when he wanted to be. Sirius gave up without even trying to pry it out of him, and fell back onto the bed, reaching behind his head and pulling the pillow out from under it, making good on his promise to press it into his face.

“Why don’t I know things?” he mumbled after a while. “I’m supposed to know things!”

“Like the fact that that’s my bed,” said James. Sirius whipped the pillow off his face, wide-eyed. James was at the entrance to the dorm, trunk hovering behind him.

“This is surprising, what happened to you going home?” asked Remus, who didn’t look surprised in the slightest.

“Changed my mind,” said James. “I just came back from the Owlery, I’m sure Mum and Dad’ll understand.” He walked over to his bed, off of which Sirius’s legs were dangling. “Oi. I need to put my trunk down. Get your legs away.” Sirius silently moved them. “You can’t just  _change_  your mind and decide to stay,” he said after thinking for a minute and watching as James lowered the trunk with his wand and landed it perfectly. “What’d McGonagall say?”

“I explained my reasons to her, and after a little persuasion, she let me stay and sent the Hogwarts Express off without me,” James said, pushing Sirius a bit to the side and getting in beside him. Sirius was gobsmacked (he never, never was gobsmacked). “You talking to me again?”

James didn’t reply, taking Sirius’s arm and stretching it out, using it as a pillow instead of the real thing half a foot away on the bed. “We’ve got lunch in about two hours, wake me up, then, Padfoot.”

Sirius looked vacantly to Remus for an explanation. Remus was grinning broadly as he read whatever was on his parchment. Looking at him, Sirius felt a grin form on his face, too.

* * *

 

They missed Wormtail at Christmas and owled him an unopened cracker or two from the singular breakfast table in the Great Hall (occupied by Slughorn, Flitwick, Dumbledore, McGonagall, the three of them and five other seventh-year students from Hufflepuff and Slytherin).

“D’you get me anything?” asked James to Sirius as they went down to the lake with full stomachs. “I won’t blame you if you didn’t, though.”

“Are you joking? Of course I got you lot presents,” said Sirius. “Remind me when we get back, I’d Summon them but I think Moony shut all the windows on our way out.”

They reached the tree closest to the edge of the lake. Only Remus had a book in his hands; he sat down and made himself comfortable. James took his place beside Remus and looked pointedly at Sirius, who was still standing, unsure. “Aren’t you going to sit?”

“Yeah, all right,” said Sirius, low, and he settled down next to James, not too far but not close enough to touch. He looked out at the calm surface of the lake, remembering a time when James used to show off with a Snitch at that very place.

“Quite calm, isn’t it?” said James after a long while in which they sat and did nothing.

“Yeah,” said Sirius, growing drowsy in the warm afternoon sun of a cold day. Remus was still quietly reading his book.

“Hey, Sirius?”

Sirius forced his drooping eyelids back open. “Yeah, Prongs?”

“I love you.”

“Oh, not again,” groaned Sirius, but James had already pulled Sirius towards him for a kiss or fifteen.

Fuck. Drunk they’d been great, but sober they were  _phenomenal._  James’s kisses. All of Sirius’s sleepiness vanished, and he got one step closer to understanding why girls’ knees went weak after James paid them the slightest attention. When they broke apart after about twenty minutes of passionate ‘canoodling’, Remus could be heard laughing unrestrainedly at them behind the cover of his book, which was shuddering with Remus’s laughter.

The rest of the Christmas holidays were some of Sirius’s best.

* * *

 

First day back at school, Lily Evans sought Sirius out, prodding James out of his usual seat beside him in first-period Transfiguration and sitting down in his place. James, confused, went to partner Mary MacDonald ( _Mary._  Sirius had taken the pains to learn her first name.)

“Hello, Black.”

“Head Girl,” greeted Sirius. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Don’t be daft, you know I’m here to talk about Potter.”

McGonagall entered the class. Evans quieted.

It was an exam practice class, which meant that James, Sirius, Remus and Peter would have dispensed easily with the task and sat back to chat, but as Evans had taken James’s place, Sirius foresaw no mischief in his future. They were to practise Human Transfiguration. Sirius changed the colour of Lily’s hair to bright purple, and she turned his into James’s bird nest without any difficulty.

“So, about Potter,” said Evans, leaning back comfortably in her chair. The boy in question, sitting much ahead of them, turned and shot Sirius a miserable look, sporting a beard resembling Dumbledore’s in every way, other than the fact that it was blue streaked with magenta. Sirius choked back a laugh.

“What about James?” he said to Evans. She was staring into space, as if thinking.

“I really thought he wouldn’t change,” she said. Sirius shrugged. “He hasn’t really, y’know. It’s just, he’s Head Boy and Quidditch Captain now, so he’s more responsible whether he likes it or not.”

“I meant his feelings for me,” said Evans. “He hasn’t fancied me for a least a year now.”

“Rubbish, you obviously haven’t seen the way he looks at you every time he gets the chance to,” said Sirius dismissively.

“She’s right, you know,” Remus said, behind them. “He hasn’t.”

Firstly, why wasn’t Sirius informed? And secondly, how the hell did Remus know everything? Was Remus omniscient? (Not that it’d be a shock or anything.)

“How d’you know all this?” Sirius demanded, turning in his seat to look at Remus, who had successfully made Peter look like an old man, complete with silver hair flowing out of… everywhere. Peter quickly ducked beneath his table in embarrassment. “And why hasn’t he told me?”

“Of course he wouldn’t tell you outright,” Evans said, as if it was utterly obvious and Sirius was slow for not getting that. Sirius puffed out his chest. “I’m his best friend. Best friend, you hear?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he wouldn’t tell you outright, but actually you saying he’s your best friend might’ve not —”

“Thanks, Evans, really, you’ve totally managed to undermine my friendship with James, yeah, sure —”

“Sirius!” Evans said in exasperation. Remus quickly interrupted, “He actually  _has_  been telling you, but you haven’t been taking him seriously.”

“What d’you mean? You heard him go on and on about Evans all year, didn’t you? Sobbing over her and breathing fire with Ogden’s!” Sirius observed his James hair in the mirror on the table, trying to make minor adjustments to it.

Evans’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been drinking Firewhisky in your dorm?” Sirius waved his hand at her, still gazing steadily at Moony. “You’re not going to tell on us, Head Girl, so quit making that face.”

Evans smiled grudgingly.

“He was,” Moony said, trailing off and pointing his wand under the table, “as they say,” he went on, smiling as Peter emerged gratefully, back to normal, “faking it.”

“He’s a fucking terrible actor,” Sirius asserted. “Force of habit enabled him to carry on for another year,” explained Remus patiently.

Sirius didn’t like this. He didn’t understand why James — his  _best friend_  — would lie to him. He kind of felt betrayed.

“Honestly, Black, are you being gormless on purpose? He likes you.”

“’Course he does, I’m his favourite person in all the world,” said Sirius, his turn to sound it’s-bloody-obvious-isn’t-it.

Evans shared a look with Remus. A  _look_. “Now I get why James had to do it, he gave up, didn’t he?” she told Moony, who nodded with a grim face. “Black’s a dimwit.”

McGonagall swooped down on them (they’d been talking quite noisily). Remus hastily restored Peter to the ancient man appearance.

After McGonagall left, Lily said, “Don’t let him think he hasn’t got a chance with you, either.”

* * *

 

“Ey, Prongs,” Sirius said, slipping into the bench next to him and pulling out his Potions things from his bag. “Looking a bit blue there.”

“Thanks.” James had spent his break painstakingly cutting (and burning) off his blue and magenta beard with his wand, because Mary MacDonald had mixed her ‘b’s with ‘d’s and made his beard impossible to Vanish. There was still a little blue stubble left that James intended to go over with a Muggle razor later. “What’d Evans want to talk to you about?”

“You, of course.”

“Really? What did she say?”

“You’re a pig.”

“What,” said James flatly. “She didn’t say that.”

“No, she didn’t,” agreed Sirius. “I’m saying that. Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t feel anything for her anymore? I should’ve been the first to know! How come  _Evans_  herself knows and I don’t?”

James flushed, not looking at him, setting up his cauldron. Slughorn was smiling expectantly at them from the front of the class.

“Look, Sirius,” he said once they’d both got their Amortentia potions underway. “I’ve been telling you ever since we began seventh year, I love you.”

“I know you do.”

James sighed.

“You still don’t understand. I fancy you the way I fancied Evans, I don’t just love you as a best mate.”

Sirius went dead silent. He should have listened to Moony and Evans, they were always maddeningly right.

James went on, “And you must’ve thought, even with all the  _snogging_  and  _fucking_  and other things we did, that I wasn’t serious. I was! You got cranky every time I told you I loved you, so I thought I’d try with Evans again, but then the day after I asked her out to Hogsmeade and she said yes, Remus told me you love me, too —” he broke off. “I don’t know how Moony knew about me, though. I’d never told him anything. Man knows everything. So I told Evans on the date that I fancied you and she got it, but then that night _we_ ended up bickering and, well, yeah.”

Merlin, Sirius was an idiot. His hands flew to his face. “Bloody hell,” he said through his fingers.

Then, James continued as if he couldn’t stop once he’d started, “I kept going about with Lily and Remus and Peter, hoping you’d get jealous or something, but you didn’t, you’re too good — and so we drew up this plan in which I’d confess to you to set things right back at my place with Mum and Dad, but then I found out you weren’t coming, so there was no point in going back.” He stirred the potion once, to get it to stay the colour it was. “Damn it, Sirius, I really thought the Christmas Hols might’ve made you understand!”

Sirius began to say something, but the sight of Slughorn lumbering over to them made him stop.

“Mr Black, your potion seems to have gone orange instead of the required sunlight yellow at this stage,” said Slughorn, peering into his cauldron. “I’m afraid you must start afresh.” He had a distinctly disappointed look on his face. Sirius’s potions usually were absolutely perfect, no matter how careless he was with them. You couldn’t blame him, though, he hadn’t been paying attention to his Potions textbook at all.

“Sorry, Prof,” said Sirius, Vanishing his potion. As soon as Slughorn’s back was turned, he scooped half of James’s potion into his cauldron and lit a fire underneath it.

“How could you kiss me sober for hours and hours and still believe I thought of you as a friend?” asked James wonderingly.

Sirius reddened. “Shut up,” he said hoarsely, poking his and James’s cauldrons with his wands so that the volumes of mid-stage Amortentia inside them doubled. (He knew for a fact that it wouldn’t affect the potions, because he’d done it tens of times before. James and Sirius had curiously achieved exactly the same potions results all year.)

James elbowed him lightly, his secret, shy smile  _(James’s Sirius smile)_ on his face. Sirius had gone back to hiding his face in his hands. He was clearly embarrassed and unwilling to show it, because Sirius Black would never usuaully deprive the public of the glory of his face.

They both had potions with a mother-of-pearl sheen by the end of the double period, so Slughorn gave them full marks for the day (not that he had ever given any other kind of marks to them). They began to pack away their things, but their lingering touches and glances at each other (James had quite a dopey smile on his face and Sirius looked like he wanted to die) made them the last to leave for the Great Hall.

James wrapped an arm around Sirius, as usual, and leaned close to whisper into his ear, “I smelled your sweat in the Amortentia.”

By all means, it was a not-that-great scent to smell from the most powerful love potion in existence, but the implication behind James’s declaration, coupled with the feel of his mouth against his ear made Sirius shiver a little, even as he burst into laughter. James pulled him closer, thinking he was cold (it was January, after all). Peter and Remus, having gone on ahead, knew as soon as they caught sight of the two of them, radiant in their newfound joy. Their smiles were wide, very wide as they emptied full goblets of pumpkin juice over the two of them in celebration.

“I’ve had my eye on this little Muggle flat in London,” James told him that night as they got into Sirius’s bed, reeking of pumpkin. “You’ll live with me there once we get out of Hogwarts, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Sirius, grinning as he watched James spell the curtains shut and put his wand away. “Can’t wait.”

“I love you,” said James, who looked happier then than he had ever been in his life.

“Hundred lifetimes, Prongs,” replied Sirius. “And you’ve got to Floo my mum soon and tell her about the Muggle flat, she’s blocked me from ever using her fireplace and I want to hear a detailed description of how her face looks right before she starts screaming and throwing cutlery at you.”

James was pressed up against Sirius, and took the opportunity to kiss him soundly.

“Oi, if you two are going to stay awake all night you’d better take responsibility for once and protect us from having to hear you two,” Remus called. Enthusiastic thumping sounds from Peter’s bed indicated his agreement.

“All right, all right,” Sirius laughed, pulling away with reluctance and reaching across to the bedside table for James’s wand (which by then had probably recognized him as co-owner). “ _Muffliato._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to stop writing this. I hope you didn't want to stop reading this! Thank you.
> 
> Also: I appreciate Slytherin, but Sirius Black does not.


End file.
